


a little tied up

by obsessivereader



Series: The accidental series [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidental Bondage, Competence Kink, Established Relationship, M/M, Metal Arm Kink, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, steve likes the way bucky handles a knife, unsanctioned use of the shield harness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 01:36:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivereader/pseuds/obsessivereader
Summary: Bucky stops dead in his tracks when he spots Steve standing in the middle of their living room with his arms cuffed in front of him. His eyebrows climb up, up, up. “Whatcha got there, Stevie?”Steve gives him a flat stare. “What’s it look like?”A predatory gleam lights Bucky’s eyes. “It looks like,” he says slyly as he stalks forward, “I’ve got you completely at my mercy.”





	a little tied up

**Author's Note:**

> This is another fic inspired by a tumblr post about all the interesting things that show up in the accidental tag on AO3. Since this WIP has been in my draft folder for over year, I decided it needed to be finished, and booted out of the nest.

As soon as the apartment door closes behind Steve, he does a little wiggle dance to get his phone out of his pocket. Having his wrists manacled in three inches of solid metal made for a certain amount of reduced mobility.

Bucky would probably take some time to get to the apartment after seeing the text, so Steve sits on the couch to wait. He doesn’t even want to think about the shit-ton of ribbing that’s gonna descend on him the moment Bucky walks in the door.

After two minutes, he springs up from the couch. The unyielding weight of the metal immobilising his wrists reminds him a little too much of being in the back of a SHIELD transport, so shell-shocked that he barely registered the presence of Natasha, who was bleeding out next to him, and Sam, a civilian who’d offered them shelter and gotten dragged into their fight. He paces the living room floor, back and forth, needing to feel some semblance of control over his own movements.

He should never have picked up the metal cube outside Tony’s lab. He’d found it tossed carelessly a few feet in front of the lab doors, a cube about six inches on all sides. The harsh white light of the corridor reflected dully off grooves on its dark grey surface. Since it was never a good idea to leave Tony’s things lying around—they had a distressing tendency to blow up unexpectedly—he’d decided to bring it with him into the lab.

The moment he’d touched it with both hands, the cube had… bloomed. Metal plates shifted and danced to a peculiar ratcheting rhythm in way that was complicated and elegant and distinctly _Tony._ Then, the opened-up block had begun to reassemble.

Before he could let go, it’d flowed up his hands and reformed into a set of cuffs that fit perfectly around his wrists, locking him securely no matter how hard he’d strained. At least there’d been no one around to see his predicament. Except for JARVIS, of course. But he and JARVIS have an understanding; Steve pretends JARVIS can’t see and hear everything that goes on in the common areas of the Tower, and JARVIS does nothing to contradict that pretense.

He’d hoofed it back to the elevator. The last thing he’d wanted was for Tony to come out and catch him.

On his tenth orbit around the apartment, the front door opens.

Bucky stops dead in his tracks when he spots Steve standing in the middle of their living room with his arms cuffed in front of him. His eyebrows climb up, up, up. “Whatcha got there, Stevie?”

Steve gives him a flat stare. “What’s it _look_ like?”

A predatory gleam lights Bucky’s eyes. “It looks like,” he says slyly as he stalks forward, “I’ve got you completely at my mercy.”

Steve's gut tightens with a potent mix of lust, and his body’s instinctive reaction to being the sole focus of the Winter Soldier.

Bucky advances until there's almost no space separating them. And then he keeps on advancing—implacable, relentless—forcing Steve to retreat until his back thumps against the wall.

Bucky’s grin is sharp and feral. He grabs hold of the cuffs with his metal hand, lifts them over Steve’s head and slams them against the wall. A small shower of plaster dust rains down on Steve’s head. He's suddenly so hard that the zipper of his jeans is causing him actual pain. His hips cant forward, instinctively seeking contact to ease the ache in his cock. He strains against Bucky’s hold, but with his arms pinned against the wall, he doesn’t have enough leverage to overcome the strength of Bucky’s metal arm. 

When Bucky leans into him, pressing one thickly-muscled thigh against Steve’s aching cock, pleasure shoots through Steve and he groans in relief. The sound is cut off when Bucky kisses him. It’s lips, and tongue, and sharp, nipping teeth, and over too fucking soon. Steve tilts forward, chasing for more, but Bucky moves out of reach, grinning at the frustrated growl that escapes Steve.

More than one way to skin a cat, Steve thinks. Trusting that Bucky won’t drop him, he lifts his legs and wraps them around Bucky’s hips, pulling Bucky forward till they’re pressed together.

Bucky makes a surprised sound, and the servos in his arm whir and whine as they adjust to the sudden strain of holding Steve up. “So impatient, Stevie,” he chides. “Always so impatient.”

Steve smirks at Bucky as he leans in to claim his kiss.

Bucky lets him have that one kiss, before pulling back. “If you’re not going to cooperate…”

With quick, efficient motions, Bucky unhooks Steve’s legs from around him, pulls Steve away from the wall, and turns them around. Steve’s forced to walk backwards while Bucky steers him with a hand on the cuffs, walking just fast enough to keep him off balance. They slam through the bedroom door hard enough that it crashes against the wall, making the pictures on the wall rattle. Steve is so focused on the heated promise in Bucky’s eyes that he hardly even registers the impact of the door against his back.

He’s forced back until he bumps into the mattress behind him. With his arms locked in front of him, he can do nothing but fall back onto the bed when Bucky plants a hand on his chest and shoves. Bucky’s on him before he can even catch a breath.

There’s something in Bucky’s hands. Fuck. The shield harness. When Bucky manhandles Steve further up the bed, the casual show of strength makes Steve’s heart beat so hard it feels like it’s going to bust out of his chest.

A sly smile quirks up one corner of Bucky’s lips as he straddles Steve and lets his weight almost settle where Steve wants him. While Steve’s distracted by the sight of sharp white teeth pressing into a lush, berry pink lip, Bucky gets one hand on the cuffs. A sharp tug has Steve’s arms up over his head, and his cock twitching in his pants. A few quick movements later, the clasp of the harness is fastened with a decisive click that makes his gut clench.

Steve gives the restraints a few experimental tugs. Bucky’d attached the harness to one of the slats of their walnut headboard. It wouldn’t take much to break it, but his arms would still be immobilised by the cuffs. The knowing way Bucky watches him while the weight of the cuffs press into his skin sends something hot and dark shivering up his spine.

“Anytime you want to stop,” Bucky says, “you just say so.”

“Okay,” Steve says gravely. He knows how important consent is to Bucky. “Now get on with it.”

His obvious impatience breaks the tension and earns him a filthy grin. Steve licks his lips and tries to stop the helpless arch of his spine as Bucky leans close enough that warm breath brushes across his skin. A quick teasing brush of lips against Steve’s and then Bucky pulls back. From seemingly nowhere, Bucky produces a knife. He flips it to get it point up before sliding it under the hem of Steve’s shirt, a hair’s breadth away from his skin. Steve’s cock _throbs_ as he sucks in his stomach, instinctively trying put some distance between his bare skin and the razor-sharp tip of Bucky’s knife.

“You always gotta wear your shirts so tight,” Bucky murmurs with a smirk, as he slides the knife all the way up to the neckline. Steve swallows at the whisper of cloth parting on a well-honed knife that's inches away from his throat. He’s so fucking turned on by the absolute confidence and control with which Bucky wields his knife that he’s a little dizzy. Two more cuts, one at each sleeve, and Steve’s bared to the waist.

“I liked that shirt,” Steve grumbles, just to be difficult. He’s got another ten just like it.

Bucky licks a long, wet stripe from Steve’s navel to his chin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He leans over Steve. The tips of his hair fall forward to brush against Steve’s cheek like the lightest of caresses. “But you like me more,” he says with a smirk.

Steve can’t argue with that. “You gonna cut off my pants, too?”

“I might if you keep being a wise-ass.”

There’s a tug at his waist as Bucky unbuckles his belt, then the cool brush of metal fingers against his skin as Bucky unfastens his pants. A few good tugs, followed by boots and socks and pants getting tossed to the floor, and Steve’s completely naked on the bed. He shudders as Bucky brushes the tip of his cock with his thumb, back and forth, pre-come slicking the way.

Bucky crawls back up his body and leans down for a kiss. Finally. He loves Bucky's kisses, the taste of him, the slippery wet heat of his mouth. Loves the slide of Bucky's tongue against his own, and the sharp bite of teeth.

His arms tug against the harness as he tries to reach for Bucky to pull him closer, the leather squeaking under the strain, the clasp clinking in time to his movements.

Bucky cups a hand over Steve’s cheek and traces his cheekbone with the cool touch of his metal thumb. “Be good, Steve. I'll take care of you.” He leans forward and grabs the bottle of lube from their nightstand. The rough slide of Bucky’s jeans against his skin reminds Steve that Bucky’s still clothed while he’s completely naked and laid out for Bucky to do with as he pleases. That thought is enough to send his breath sawing in and out of his lungs.

He’s so on edge that even Bucky’s strong, sure grip on his ankles when he positions Steve with his knees bent and feet flat on the bed, sends him spiraling higher with anticipation. When he feels the touch of a slicked-up finger against his hole, Steve gasps. “What happened to foreplay?”

“Pal,” Bucky says, with a gleam in his eye that should probably worry Steve, “when I'm done with you, you're gonna regret you said that.”

Steve sucks in a breath and arches at the feel of Bucky’s finger slowly pushing into him. Bucky’s eyes are locked onto his, pupils blown almost black with lust. He withdraws the finger and pushes in again. Steve groans when Bucky stops just short of where he wants it to be, then Bucky withdraws it again, just as slow. Bucky repeats it again and again, each time getting just a little bit closer to that place inside him. Steve writhes and tries to push himself further onto Bucky’s finger, but the creak of the harness signals the point beyond which he can’t go any further.

“Bucky…”

The finger is withdrawn, and Steve swears under his breath. Bucky watches him with a flush of color tinting his cheeks. He’s got his lower lip caught between his teeth, and Steve wants to get _closer._ Wants to bite down on those pink lips, lick them, push his way between them with his tongue, his cock. Then it’s two fingers slowly pushing inside him, and it’s the same tantalising tease; almost but not quite where he needs it.

“Come on, Bucky,” he rasps. He tries to force himself lower down, the force of his movement making the walnut slat creak in protest.

“Don’t break the bed, Steve. We’ve only had it for six months.”

And then, because Bucky in this mood is an absolute devil, he strokes _almost_ close enough at the same time as he licks _almost_ hard enough over the head of Steve’s cock. Steve jerks, not sure whether he’s trying to get those fingers on his prostate or his cock into Bucky’s mouth.

There’s a crack of wood starting to splinter, then, Bucky’s fingers are gone. Steve lets out a frustrated growl and slumps back on the bed. Bucky trails a teasing finger up his perineum before getting off the bed to strip out of his clothes.

“About fucking time,” Steve growls.

Bucky pauses in the middle of pushing his pants down, and gives Steve a dangerous smile that’s all glinting teeth and predatory eyes. Oh yes… Bucky’s in a mood, and he’s going to make Steve suffer in the most exquisite way. Something that’s confirmed when Bucky climbs back on the bed. Hands grip Steve’s hips and tilt him up. When Bucky’s done, Steve’s lower body is resting on Bucky’s lap, while his legs are draped over Bucky’s forearms. The position means he has very little leverage to move—whatever Bucky chooses to give him, that’s all he’s going to get.

More pre-come leaks out of his cock and he swears he can feel his heartbeat throbbing at its base. Bucky cups the point of Steve’s hips with each hand, thumbs drawing little circles on his skin, the tender touch at odds with the avid hunger in his eyes when he looks at Steve.

“You ready?”

“I was ready ten minutes ago,” Steve answers.

Bucky frees his right arm so he can slick himself up, teasing Steve with the brush of his knuckles against Steve’s perineum and balls. He slides his arm under Steve’s knee and leans forward. When Steve feels the blunt head of Bucky's cock pressing against him, he grips the slat he’s bound to and bears down, trying to get Bucky inside him.

The initial intrusion of Bucky's thick cock is almost overwhelming, but he loves feeling himself stretch to accommodate Bucky into his body. He wraps his legs around Bucky’s back and uses them to pull himself closer, sliding slowly onto Bucky’s cock, letting his body get used to Bucky’s girth, taking him in inch by slow inch. Almost there, almost where he wants it—

There’s a clink and a squeak of leather and he nearly howls when he feels the tug on his shoulder joints. Bucky watches him strain against the bindings as he tries to pull himself closer, a sly smirk on his face.

“Need a little help there, pal?”

“Fuck you,” Steve grates out.

“Not this time.” Bucky smirks at him, flesh hand and metal hand gripping his hips tight. “It’s your turn, and I’m gonna take good care of you.”

When Bucky says ‘take care’, what he means is that he’s gonna drive Steve out of his mind with frustration. When Bucky says ‘take care’, what he means is that he wants Steve to hand over the reins for a few hours.  Steve’s hips jerk at the thought, making Bucky suck in a breath.

It’s Steve’s turn to smirk. “Move, goddamit.”

Bucky smiles, cocky and dirty, and licks his lips. “Yes, sir.”

Bucky moves, sure enough, but it’s slow, teasing. Everything is slow and teasing; the brush of fingers against Steve’s cock, the light graze of cool fingers against his nipples, the warm glide of a calloused palm up his side, the slide of Bucky inside him, slick and hot and hard. The sound of leather creaking, and the clink of the metal clasp, the way the slat protests the strain it's being put under, the rasp of Bucky’s breath—he's going to remember all of it for the rest of his life.

Bucky fucks him slow and shallow when he wants it fast and deep, no matter how he twists and shoves to get nearer, no matter how he tries to pull Bucky closer. His fingers flex and clench on empty air, needing… needing…

After he doesn’t know how long of having Bucky’s cock _just_ brush up against his prostate, Steve’s cussing Bucky out, blue and filthy and desperate. Then Bucky tightens his hold on Steve’s hips and holds them still while he starts fucking into Steve, all the way inside him, deep and hard. 

Pleasure sparks like electricity over his nerves. He arches up and can’t hold back a long, drawn-out moan. _This._ This is what he needs. He can feel his orgasm boiling up in his balls. He’s going to come untouched if Bucky keeps it up.

Close, he’s so close… Just a few more… He can barely keep his eyes open and on Bucky, but he doesn’t want to miss a moment. Seeing Bucky makes everything more intense because it’s _Bucky_. He drinks in the familiar lines of Bucky’s face, can’t look away from darkened grey eyes. Bucky like this is beautiful… so beautiful. Bucky is—Bucky is a _bastard._

Hands grip his hips and immobilise them as Bucky stops moving.

“Fuck!” He yanks on the harness, not caring anymore if he breaks the fucking bed. The clasp rattles, and the wood groans as he pulls harder.

“You break that, and we’re gonna have to stop, Steve. I like this bed.”

“Fuck. You.” 

Bucky gives a low laugh as he runs soothing hands over Steve’s thighs and up his stomach to his chest, while somehow managing not to jostle him at all. Steve wants to kick him for that.

“You need to quit hurrying all the time. I told you, I’ll take care of you.”

Steve can’t help the way he chases after the pleasure with Bucky, the way he hangs on so tightly to all these moments. Sometimes, he still fears that the last year with Bucky was just a dream, and he’ll wake up to a world where Bucky hadn’t come back to him. 

But Bucky’s here. This is real. He takes a deep breath and forces the tension to bleed out of his muscles.

“That’s it,” Bucky says approvingly.

The need to come abates to a pleasant throb in his groin as Bucky keeps petting him. When Steve’s breathing evens out, Bucky rolls his hips up.

Steve jerks and chokes out a garbled sound as pleasure crashes through him, intense and sudden and immediate, without any build-up. At the rate he’s going, he might break the bed without even meaning to.

Bucky does it again and again, bringing him to the edge, and then pulling back.

“Bucky,” he gasps, at the end of his tether, hips shifting restlessly against Bucky’s thighs. He’s lost track of how many times he’d almost come. Five? Six? “Bucky, please. I need—”

“All you had to do was ask,” Bucky croons.

“Oh Jesus,” Steve groans, when Bucky wraps his metal hand around Steve’s cock.

“You like that, huh?” Bucky’s voice is low and smooth and dark.

Steve’s definitely got a thing about that metal hand. It may not be as comfortable as being jerked off with Bucky’s flesh hand, but something about the cold, unrelenting hardness of it, the odd pressure points on his cock… Two strokes, in time with hard thrusts that hold nothing back, and he’s done for.

He shouts Bucky’s name as he flies apart. Pleasure so intense it borders on pain expands outwards from his core, scouring him clean of all his fears, his doubts, his worries. He curls up as far as the harness allows, stomach muscles almost cramping from the strength of his orgasm. Bucky strokes him through it, drawing it out, as the rhythm of his own thrusts become more erratic.

Distantly, over the sound of his own pounding heart and heaving breaths, Steve hears Bucky groan his name as he comes. Steve shudders as wet heat floods him.

“Bucky,” he whispers, voice ragged and raw. He tries to arch up towards Bucky. He needs Bucky, needs to feel the weight of Bucky on top of him. He’s always like this after Bucky takes him apart, but he can’t summon the words to communicate his need.

“It’s okay, Steve. I got you.” Bucky’s voice isn’t much better off than Steve’s. He pulls out gently and lowers Steve to the bed.

Steve’s legs are stiff after being locked around Bucky’s back for so long, and he groans as he stretches them out. The sheets feel cool and smooth against his overheated flesh, as does the shredded remains of his T-shirt that Bucky uses to mop up the come dripping out of him.

And then, finally, Bucky’s leaning over him, half-resting his weight on Steve. Steve hums his satisfaction when Bucky kisses him. It’s soft, and affectionate; tender after the intensity that came before, and it helps to settle him back into his skin.

“You okay?” Bucky rasps.

Steve tilts his head into the cool fingers that card through his hair. He nods, then makes a protesting sound when Bucky’s weight lifts off him. Another gentle kiss to reassure him, then Bucky’s leaning up to unfasten the harness so Steve can finally bring his arms down.

They stare at the solid block of the cuffs that remain securely locked around Steve’s wrists.

“What the fuck are we gonna do about this?” Bucky asks.

Steve snorts at the honest bewilderment in Bucky’s voice, so different from the sex-soaked tones from earlier. “Let’s talk to JARVIS before we try Tony.”

“Good call.” Bucky taps the cuffs with a metal finger, striking a melodic note that surprises a laugh from both of them.

 

๑      ๑      ๑

 

Two days later, there’s a knock on the door just as they’re sitting down to their bacon, eggs, and bagels chewy enough to give their supersoldier jaws a workout. Steve jerks in surprise when Bucky kicks him on the ankle. “It’s your turn,” Bucky says, as he picks up his fork.

Steve rolls his eyes and gets up. “Don’t steal my bacon.” When he sees the unrepentant grin on Bucky’s face, he bids farewell to at least half of his bacon. Not that he really minds—Bucky had spent so long without that Steve would happily surrender all of his breakfast just to see that carefree, shit-eating grin on Bucky’s face.

He opens the door to a very over-caffeinated Tony—the very air around him seems to vibrate at a faster rate than normal. Steve eyes the bags under Tony’s eyes and the hair sticking out every which way. “When did you last sleep?”

“I don’t know.” Tony walks in and starts looking around the living room like a nervous ferret sniffing out a meal. “What day is it?”

Bucky walks over to stand next to Steve and sends him a questioning look. Steve shrugs. Who knew what went on in Tony’s mind. It moved so fast there were probably only a handful of people in the world who could keep up.

After checking all the flat surfaces in the living room, Tony turns to face them while he continues to scan the the apartment. “So.” He claps his hands together officiously. “I'm here about a missing prototype for Bruce when he—” Tony breaks off when he notices the dent in the wall. His eyes widen, then his gaze flicks to Steve’s wrists, traces a path up to Steve’s shoulders, and then back to the dent. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the dent was round about the height where Steve's wrists would be if they were pressed up against the wall.

Tony looks back with horrified eyes to where Steve and Bucky are standing shoulder to shoulder. Steve doesn’t even bother holding back his smile. From the corner of his eyes, he spots what’s probably a very similar shark-like grin on Bucky’s face.

Because Bucky’s always had a flair for the dramatic, he waits a beat to let Tony’s horror really sink in, before turning around and walking into the bedroom. He returns with the metal block and places it on the table without a word.

Tony stares at the block for a long moment. “You know what?” he says, addressing the block. “Nevermind.” He turns around and walks briskly towards the door, holding his hand up and waggling it as he speaks. “Keep that one,” he says over his shoulder. “I’ll just make another one. No problem. Don’t ever tell me what you two were doing with it.” He pulls open the door and steps through. “Let’s never speak of this again.” The door closes behind Tony with a click.

Not three hours later, a strange little device is delivered to their door by a harried looking Stark employee, whose only instruction from Tony was that it was for them and they’d know what to do with it. It’s a brushed metal rectangle, about two inches long and one inch wide and about a quarter inch thick. The only thing on the face of the device, is a big red button. They press the button, of course.

There’s a familiar ratcheting sound as the block on the table performs its strange origami dance in reverse and unfolds into four connected segments.

It looks perfectly innocent, lying there on the table, like a piece of modern art. Sweat blooms on Steve’s skin as Bucky gives him a sidelong glance, a slow smile curving up his lips.

“So Stevie,” Bucky murmurs. “You got anything planned for the rest of the day?”

Steve licks dry lips. “Nothing that can’t be rescheduled.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr :) [yetanotherobsessivereader](http://yetanotherobsessivereader.tumblr.com/)


End file.
